Chapter 116 Countdown

February 26, 2023

The unprecedented Tokyo Dome solo ice show Gift will officially open this evening.

A slight chill still hung in the air of Tokyo this morning. Despite this, a line of fans had already formed outside the dome, some wrapped in thick blankets and sitting on folding chairs. Others held hands with friends, quietly discussing the performance. Still others, holding supportive banners, braved the wind to take photos and check in. The line at the merchandise sales area stretched endlessly—anticipation written all over their faces.

Meanwhile, the entire massive venue was still under intense preparation. The lights inside hadn't yet been fully lit, and only staff members, clad in thick coats, could be seen taking their positions in the set, lighting, and sound areas. Members of the Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra had also arrived, taking their seats in front of the performance area, expertly examining the music and instruments, and performing the necessary warm-up exercises.

"It's so cold..." A female violinist hunched her neck, her down jacket wrapped tightly around her body, the white breath she exhaled instantly dissipating in the air. "Just thinking about taking off this down jacket to go on stage tonight makes me feel so sad."

"Yeah, the temperature is low today, and there's ice in here... When the performance starts tonight, I'm afraid we'll become frozen specimens." The musician sitting next to her joked.

"Be careful, don't let your hands get numb and press the wrong notes."

"That's not a problem... I'm more afraid of accidentally being mesmerized by Hanyu." She smiled softly, unconsciously cupping her hands over her face. "I came early yesterday and happened to see him training. His posture and aura were simply inhuman."

"Oh? I heard he was injured yesterday. Is that true? It's almost noon now, and he hasn't come yet... Is there anything wrong?"

Upon hearing these words, the originally relaxed atmosphere suddenly became quiet for a moment, and several people looked at each other in confusion.

"Don't worry... Now that you mention it, I'm a little worried..."

Just as they were whispering, the curtain leading to the backstage was suddenly and neatly drawn aside, instantly drawing the crowd's attention there.

Yuzuru Hanyu appeared at the end of the tunnel, his slender figure outlined in a tight black training suit, the muscles of his chest and shoulders clearly defined under the light. With a calm expression and decisive steps, he crossed the empty tunnel and entered the ice rink.

The body seemed to have never fallen and had never felt pain.

Like before any other game, his eyes were calm and sharp, his steps were firm and powerful, as if the temperature in the air would rise by one degree with his presence.

Without further ado, he simply nodded to the surrounding staff and band members before heading to the edge of the ice. He removed his skates, stepped onto the ice, and began skating—a series of movements without a moment's hesitation. After a few warm-up laps, he began snapping his fingers to find a rhythm, pushing off the ice to take off, carving a beautiful arc in the air, and landing crisply.

"Wow... this is too stable." A small whisper came from the orchestra.

"Didn't he fall yesterday?"

"Is this true? His recovery speed is too fast. He is indeed a national representative athlete."

"You must have used some secret recipe," a staff member jokingly said, "Dr. Morimoto, did you use some strong medicine? Please teach us secretly. My shoulders are stiff as a log."

Morimoto Kosuke brushed it off with a professional smile: "I don't have that ability. It's Hanyu who's really good."

After saying this, he quietly turned around and took a few steps in the other direction. When the people behind him were no longer focused on him, he lowered his head and couldn't help but roll his eyes silently.

Yes, there is indeed a "strong medicine" - it's just painkillers.

After the emergency treatment last night, he couldn't bring himself to say the doctor's advice that he had been familiar with for years and that he could almost recite without thinking.

In previous years, he would have urged Hanyu to reduce the difficulty of his jumps, cut back on his choreography, or even withdraw altogether. But this time was different. So many eyes were watching them—some supporting, some questioning, some waiting to applaud, some waiting to see the joke. And he had accompanied Hanyu and Suginohara all the way here.

At this time, saying the word "give up" becomes the cruelest indifference.

Yuzuru Hanyu lay obediently on the treatment bed, wearing headphones and closing his eyes to practice imagery. The warm light of the therapy lamp reflected on his slightly drawn eyelashes, casting a soft glow over his fatigue.

Xiaojie stared at him for a while, and finally sighed: "...Take painkillers."

"Wow, that's scary!" Yuzuru Hanyu took off his headphones and acted out a dramatic performance. "Xiaojie, you actually said something like that. I'm suddenly a little scared. Is this... standing up this time going to be the last time..."

"Ugh!!" Before he could finish his words, Le covered his mouth with his hand.

"Is this the time to show off?" Xiaojie rolled his eyes so hard they almost popped out of their sockets. "Or tell me what to do? I have a performance tomorrow, and tens of thousands of people are waiting..."

"How much can you eat at most?" Le suddenly interrupted him.

At that moment, Xiao Jie was stunned by her stare. Her eyes were not angry, but extremely sharp, with a seriousness that he had never seen on her face before.

He subconsciously straightened his back and honestly reported the upper limit of the dosage. Then he immediately turned around and fled the scene, secretly cursing himself for being mean. Recalling that look, he felt that he really deserved to be punished.

And now, reality has come to the fore.

"Good morning." A gentle greeting sounded beside him, which scared Xiaojie.

He looked back and saw Le.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be on the center console?" he asked in a low voice.

Le didn't answer, but turned his head and glanced at him. That look was quiet and cold, as if saying, "What do you think?"

Xiaojie silently shrank her neck, but fortunately the oppressive feeling didn't last long. After all, now, she only had eyes for the man on the ice.

The vast Tokyo Dome was eerily quiet, the city's hustle and bustle seemingly isolated from the dome. The sharp, clear sound of his skates slicing across the ice was clear as Yuzuru Hanyu practiced his jumps over and over again, whispering to himself to encourage himself:

"Nice dance."

"Not bad."

"that's all."

There was no music, only his voice echoing in this huge space.

The 35-minute practice passed in a flash.

After finishing his last skate, Yuzuru Hanyu controlled his emotions, adjusted his breathing, and skated toward the sidelines, reaching for the microphone. He stopped in the middle of the ice, facing the stands where staff gathered on all sides, and his voice trembled slightly:

"Then I'll do my best."

He finished speaking, then slowly looked up and around. This stage, built just for him—this space so familiar to both dancers and audience members—belonged to him today, and was only for him.

His nose felt sore, and he took a deep breath, suppressing the sudden emotion. He gritted his teeth, grinned foolishly, and swallowed back the bitterness that rose in his throat.

"Thank you all for building such a great venue and ice surface for me. It was so short a time, and it was really hard work. And to the music team, the lighting crew, the directors, everyone... For this one-time performance, thank you all!"

After he finished speaking, he bowed, but was afraid that the violent movement of his waist would cause pain, so he just lowered his head with all his strength and saluted silently.

He put the microphone back on the sidelines, took a deep breath, and slowly retreated behind the scenes, pushing the small cart with Pusang on it. His body seemed relaxed, but at that moment, he knew he was relying on willpower to keep himself from crying.

And when he turned around and saw Le standing not far from the exit, the emotions that had been suppressed for a long time almost overflowed.

She stood there quietly, her eyes gentle, as if she was waiting for him, and as if she was supporting his retreat.

"Yeah, no problem." He held back his tears, blinked hard to force back the moisture in his eyes, forced a smile and raised his thumb to her.

Photographers wouldn't miss such a scene, and the sound of shutter clicks echoed. Le, wearing a mask, seemed to be saying something, but Hanyu couldn't hear clearly.

He was about to leave the camera's range and walk towards her, but Le took a step forward and reached out to hold his thumb which was still raised.

She held his hand in her palm, and gently stroked his knuckles, which were slightly red from gliding quickly in the cold air.

"It's quite cold... You're sweating, but your fingers are still cold..." She said softly, lowering her head and rubbing his fingers carefully.

"It's okay. I believe you."

Her voice was soft, but it firmly penetrated all the shutter sounds and ambient noises and fell into his heart.

Just like last night, she stood behind him, rubbing the muscles on his back with her warm palms, saying nothing, but letting him hear the quiet and real heartbeat.

"Yeah." He responded softly.

[Fang Li: Have you arrived at the venue? If you can't find the way, you should contact Lele.]

Guan Yue: We're here, don't worry. There are fans everywhere. I can find the entrance by just following one of them.

After sending the message, Guan Yue smiled as she put her phone away, exited the interface, switched to camera mode, and snapped several photos of the nearly packed auditorium. The massive stadium was packed, and the air was thick with excitement and anticipation. Her eyes curved, and even the mask couldn't hide the joy on her face. She exuded a sense of smug pride, a sense of satisfaction with her country.

As soon as I sat down, a voice next to me took the initiative to ask: "Are you Chinese?"

She turned around and saw a girl wearing round-frame glasses and a woolen coat.

"Yeah, you too?"

"Yes, I'm an international student." The girl smiled and took out a small pendant from her bag and handed it to me, "This is for you~"

"Ah... how can I be so embarrassed..." Guan Yue was a little surprised. She took the small gift with both hands. She felt grateful but also a little annoyed. She should have prepared some small gifts for each other. After thinking for a while, she took out an edamame rice cake from her bag and said, "This is for you. I just bought it."

"Thank you!" the girl happily accepted it. "Wow, I'm really looking forward to this performance. What's that hand over there?"

Guan Yue followed her gaze - on both sides of the stage, there was actually a live band on each side, and above the band, two huge hand models were hanging high above, with slender knuckles, like gods descending from the sky, or like some invisible force, controlling the fate of the entire performance.

She couldn't help but pick up the telescope and look more closely. The "hands" were indeed cleverly arranged. They were neither abrupt nor particularly eye-catching.

"Prologue, did you go to the event?" the girl asked again, her voice low but unable to suppress the excitement in her tone. "You couldn't scream, you could only clap. It was really hard. My hands were almost swollen from clapping. Also, did you bring a spare mask? You'd cry, really cry."

Guan Yue was stunned, a half-believing, half-doubting smile appeared on the corner of her mouth: "Huh? Is it really that serious?"

There was a smile in her tone and her expression was relaxed.

At this time, Guan Yue still didn't know what kind of emotional tsunami this performance would bring her.

She just sat in the audience, like so many others who stepped into this performance called The Gift, curious, excited, and full of anticipation - just the right amount of naiveté.